The Boleyn King
by LadyHallows
Summary: What if the tragic story of the enchanting, strong Queen known as Anne Boleyn had a slight twist? What if, before her beheading in 1536, Anne had had a son? How would England cope under the reign of the Boleyn King?
1. Chapter 1

**The Boleyn King**

 **Description**

 _What if the tragic story of the enchanting, strong Queen known as Anne Boleyn had a slight twist? What if, before her beheading in 1536, Anne had had a son? How would England cope under the reign of the Boleyn King?_

 _ **19**_ _ **th**_ _ **May 1536**_

 _ **Tower of London, London**_

There was not a person in England, who had all their senses, that could deny that Anne Boleyn was a strong, enchanting, formidable, intelligent woman. In fact, there were many who believed strongly that it was that reason that the Queen Consort was to die upon this day.

There were many times when Anne could claim that Henry was most cruel, yet today seemed to top them all off. For she was sent to die upon the birth date of her only son.

And yet she loved the King still. She had clung desperately to the hope that her husband would find out of her innocence and free her of the confines of the tower; that he was not so immersed with this new Lady of whom could barely write her own name upon parchment that he would set their son behind the Seymour girl's in the succession, that he would not forsake for such lies.

But that time never came and she would be to face her death upon this very day, to leave her daughter and son, dear Elizabeth and James, at the tender ages of two and one; to leave them to a world that would do nothing but whisper cruel tales of her painted as an antagonist within their minds.

With every breath she took the air seemed to thicken around her. She feared death, that itself had no doubt but nor would she go kicking and screaming, dragged ruthlessly to her death by hands and legs and taint whatever image her children would be give of her. If there was one thing any person in England, whether they supported or loathed her, could be sure upon was the factor that the Boleyn Queen loved her children.

She observed silently the stage still erect upon which her brother and assumed 'lovers' had died two days previously, her mind on a continuous loop as her beloved brother's head was hacked off upon the same place hers would soon lie.

' _I love your neck'_ Henry had once proclaimed, yet now he seemed all too eager to have it removed.

"It is time," came the grave voice of Master Kingston as he opened up her door and gazed down curiously upon the soon to be deceased Queen Consort who had gone between accepting her death to crying in a matter of seconds within the past few days and had made the predication that it would not rain until she was released. To the woman's credit, it had yet to rain since her imprisonment yet considering the fact that it was swift approaching summer he could not find himself surprised.

She turned to him and he saw that two necklaces seemed to be clenched within her hand before she offered them to him, "give these to Bess and James when they are old enough, please."

Her words were more of a leg that request, one that Master Kingston granted as he slowly took the most beautiful objects from the woman, the _B_ necklace that she was so famous for wearing and evidently for her daughter and a beautiful locked with a _J_ encrusted with rubies that he had no doubt would most likely contain the only remaining version of the portrait made of Anne Boleyn, the Princess Elizabeth and Prince James in the November of 1535 within – Henry, in wild anger, having destroyed most of the portrait that so much as featured to woman slightly within.

And with his nod Anne Boleyn prepared herself to stay strong and thought of her children within every words of the speech she spoke to the awaiting crowd as she was brought to her death,

" _Good Christen people, I am come hether to dye, for accordyng to the lawe and by the lawe I am iudged to dye, and therefore I wyll speake nothyng against it. I am come hether to accuse no man, nor to speake any thyng of that wherof I am accused and condempned to dye, but I pray God saue the king and send him long to reigne ouer you, for a gentler nor a more mercyfull prince was there neuer: and to me he was euer a good, a gentle, & soueraigne lorde. And if any persone wil medle of my cause, I require them to iudge the best. And thus I take my leue of the worlde and of you all, and I heartely desyre you all to pray for me. O lorde haue mercy on me, to God I comende my soule."_

 **TBK-TBK-TBK-TBK**

 _ **6**_ _ **th**_ _ **July 1553**_

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich**_

Many crowded within the realms of Greenwich Palace, for the King was ill and seemingly soon to die. The most notable of all present were the Lady Mary, the Princess Elizabeth and the Prince James. Though the King had placed his eldest son, now of seven and ten, behind his younger brother in the line of succession he had kept them legitimised in order to ensure a safe succession of his son at the death of Edward should it happen.

The eldest of the siblings was the Lady Mary Tudor, aged of seven and thirty of whom perfectly merrily danced within the court, feeling herself so close to grasping the crown of England as her younger half-brother's health rapidly declined.

Meanwhile Elizabeth immersed herself within talking to others, the woman of nine and ten looking most beautiful as she did so, her smile – though not noticeably – however, was slightly strained. As was her brother's.

The male of seven and ten felt the gazes of many eyeing his every move, observing the man that was certain to be their next King. However not many without a distinct eye for detail could notice the strain within his eyes as he 'smiled', for the dying King had been most close to the older Prince; and now he was not even permitted to see him within his last moments, to provide him any comfort he could as his older, albeit half, brother.

Dancing, though tense and dozed with anticipation and curiosity, continued late into the evening before the physician that had attended to Edward's health left his chambers and entered the hall with a most sombre expression. Any ounce of less than joyful music was wiped away as not one courtier could tear their gaze from the man of medicine as he walked up to their next Prince, the son of the late Anne Boleyn, and took to a low bow, announcing to all of whom could hear,

"The King is dead, long live the King."

Not one person excluded themselves from the pleasantries as they took to bows, low and shallow alike, and declared Prince James Tudor, Duke of York and Earl of Richmond their new King.

This was to be the beginning of what they hoped would become a golden age, with the fourth King of the Tudor dynasty.

 **TBK-TBK-TBK-TBK**

 _ **19th February 1554**_

 _ **Hampton Court Palace, London**_

"Should I be concerned to the factor that I have been King for just over six months, crowned just on December 31st, and you already intend to marry me off?" James enquired idly as he gazed from face to face of the men he had appointed upon his Privy Council. Out of all of them it was the seemingly rather bold Sir William Cecil – who Bess had requested he appoint for the man's seemingly unwavering loyalty to her and Protestantism – that spoke up.

His voice was rather tense as he informed the King of seven and ten, "we made the mistake of not ensuring that your brother produced an heir to succeed him, Your Majesty, forgive us but it must be ensured that the same cannot happen again; especially with the Catholics vying for the reign of your sister, Mary or even your cousin the Queen of Scotland."

Not a man upon the council could deny any truth to the man's words, them too having heard of the uprisings in favour of Catholism that needed to be dealt with – an English Heir could produce hope of just that.

James had no longing to be married off, nay, he was rather fond of being just him on his own; but nor could Cecil's remark be ignored, "and of whom is it that you are inclined to marry me to, Sir William Cecil?"

"Joana of Austria, daughter of Charles V Holy Roman Emperor, widow to John Manuel of Portugal and mother to the almost month old future King of Portugal; Maria Manuella of Portugal, Aunt to the future King of Portugal and daughter of John III of Portugal; Anna of Denmark, daughter of Christian III of Denmark; Margaret of Valois, daughter of Francis I of France and sister of Henry II of France; Jeanne of Navarre, current future Queen of Navarre; Mary of Scotland, Queen of Scotland. However I do believe the latter would be too young to sire an heir with therefore the others would be a better choice."

Thinking the names through he finally spoke to Sir William Cecil in a commanding voice with the confidence of a true King, "bring me the portraits of Joana of Austria, Maria Manuella of Portugal, Anna of Denmark and Jeanne of Navarre, Cecil," the man nodded his head with a most accomplished smile as the council moved onto yet another pressing matter requiring much attention, the Catholic rebellions and the hailing of the Lady Mary Tudor as the woman who should be their Queen.

And, though he would too take thought and feelings – well, at least _partially_ \- into account, knew just how to quell such a rebellion; providing the entire plan wouldn't backfire within the new King of England and of France, Lord of Ireland's face.

Of which it quite would.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Boleyn King**

 **Chapter 2:** _Princess Dowager of Portugal; Infanta of Spain; Archduchess of Austria_

 **A/N Henry put James behind Edward in the succession to punish Anne for cheating on him, even though she actually didn't bur Henry didn't exclude him for fear of Edward's death – like how it was Arthur's death that lead him to the throne.**

 **TO FANS OF 'THE SECOND TUDOR KING' THE UPDATE WILL (HOPEFULLY BE ON EITHER TOMMOROW NIGHT (ENGLISH NIGHT TIME) OR MONDAY!**

 **4** **th** **March 1554**

 _ **Westminster Chapel, London**_

In the beginnings, James had been most eager for a French Princess to make his Queen; a way, not that he would admit it, to holding on dearly to his mother's memory of whom he knew had spent many years in both France and the Netherlands.

But it seemed it was not to be.

Jeanne of Navaree was already wed, something Cecil seemed to have oh so clearly overlooked and Margaret of Valois was two and ten his elder and it was unknown as to whether or not the French Princess would be soon to pass child bearing age and no one longed for a repeat of Catherine of Aragon.

Therefore he was to marry the just under one year elder Infanta Juana of Castille and Aragon, Archduchess of Austria, Princess Dowager of Portugal and mother to the future King of Portugal, her son: Sebastian. It would be a marriage that would not just solidify the relations between Spain, the Holy Roman Emperor and England but also it would create a bond with Portugal, the future King would be his step-son and any of their children, boys he prayed, would be the half-siblings to the King of Portugal.

It would be an alliance that would benefit England greatly but none the less he was most nervous to meet her. He had thought her portrait beautiful but it is hard to truly be able to know someone, to simply marry someone from their portrait; as Henry VIII, his father, had learnt with his fourth wife: Anne of Cleves.

And yet here he was, awaiting the bride to which, before this day, his eyes had never landed upon anything to do with her except her portrait. And her letter in which to request that she be allowed to bring her dogs with her, to which he had rather amusedly accepted.

The choir began to sing out and with that James Tudor knew that she had arrived, turning he was faced with the woman they had called Infanta of Castille and Aragon, Archduchess of Austria and Princess Dowager of Portugal: Juana Habsburg. Turning he was gretted by the sight of her entering the hall.

She was of exceptional beauty, which was evident, with an oval face, high cheekbones as well as possessing a strong jaw line; her eyes were of a cloudy grey and her hair a very light shade of blonde as she surveyed the scene in front of her. Her dress was a sparkling silver, her hair cascading in waves with a sapphire crown placed upon the woman's head.

Her expression gave away nothing but he found himself hoping that she felt at least a faction of the nervousness that seemed to consume him as he – not too subtly – appreciated the view of the woman who was to become his wife and Queen.

Negotiations had taken a fortnight between the King of England and of France, Lord of Ireland and King Charles V of Spain, Holy Roman Emperor mainly on the matters of religion and Mary, his eldest sister.

Infanta Juana, soon to become Queen Joanna, was to convert to Protestantism on the outside as long as, in private, she was allowed to worship as a Catholic to which James had hesitantly agreed, being very Protestant himself even if both he and his elder sister shared their liking for the stain glass windows, altars and for priests to still be dressed worthy of their position.

As for Mary, she was to not be pressured into changing her religion and was to be wed to a man of James' choice within two months after his wedding – something that the King of seven and ten found himself dwelling on anyway, the marriages of both of his sisters. Only he wasn't to be sure how Mary would take hers.

He watched as Juana kneeled next to him at the altar and saw as her enchanting grey eyes turned to look into his borderline black ones, said to be identical to his late mother's and like hooks for the soul, in fact, his appearance could be said to greatly favour his mother other than having his father's athletic build, six feet and three inches in height and the classic, seemingly unescapable, Tudor and Plantagenet red-gold hair that surprisingly went rather well with his unusually dark eyes.

He offered her a small, hesitant smile that he was positive seemed to convey his nervousness as she sent a slight smile of her own before both of their eye lines were directed back to Thomas Cramner who began the ceremony.

 _ **TBK-TBK-TBK-TBK**_

If he were to be completely honest with himself, he had no idea what to do. Most boys his age had took many mistresses to bed already yet he had not, favouring to stay sitting upon the sill of a window fiddling with the locket that hung around his neck; something that his friends most teased him for.

But he would never take it off.

For within the locket of rubies with a beautiful _J_ on the outside was a picture – the only remaining picture to his knowledge – of his mother, his sister and he altogether. At the time he couldn't have been more than five months old, Bess recently having reached two.

Portraits took far too long to paint, in James' (who was quite prone to fidgeting) opinion yet Queen Anne Boleyn still held a smile upon her face as she looked down into the baby James' eyes, Bess to her left, their hands holding one another's.

Sighing and washing the thoughts of the mother he so wished to remember from his mind he turned to look to where his bride was announced to having entered. Though she, who had a son, was clearly more experienced than he her face still held a slight fear and concern upon her creamy pale face, feelings that he was sure he mirrored.

He could see Thomas Cramner blessing the marriage bed before the two got in and the curtains were drawn, even though they could still hear the breathing of the nobles from outside as they awaited for proof of the King and their new Queen's newly consumed marriage.

He did not know if they had done consumations in this way in Portugal but did clearly see the look upon her face, swallowing down his fear in an attempt to reassure her he stated, "ignore them all, for we are all that matters," and then, most hesitantly, he placed his lips upon hers.

 _ **20**_ _ **th**_ _ **April 1554**_

 _ **Windsor Castle, Windsor**_

It was quite a sight to behold, King James and Queen Joanna most joyously laughing as they rode side by side within the towering forests of Windsor, the Queen's favourite place of all of the courts.

Queen Joanna was proving to be a most accomplished Queen, reading and speaking Latin, French, Spanish, German, Italian and English as well as proving to be a most capable ruler. She was also fairly independent of personality at times as well as turning out to be quite wilful.

Though both rulers seemed to have noticed the curious eyes upon the abdomen of the Queen frequently now, even after only five weeks of marriage yet they seemed to take in their stride, both confident a babe would be to bless them soon.

What wasn't to be a sight to behold, however was the tantrum that was thrown by the Lady Mary Tudor during that time, a lot of stomping, throwing and yelling as she was informed of her husband-to-be.

Engalnd's _only_ legitimate heir – in Mary's opinon – was to be married off to a mere Baron and worse, the son of a Boleyn and a Knight!

She was to be married to Henry Carey, Baron Hudson. The son of the late Mary Boleyn – the sister of Anne Boleyn – and the late Sir William Carey and James' cousin.

Not to mention his Protestantism and the factor that her younger, _illegitimate,_ half-sister was to be wed to King Frederick II of Denmark and of Norway, the Wends and the Goths, Duke of Schleswig, Holstein, Stormarm and Dithmarschen, Count of Oldenburg and Delmenhorst; her little sister would preside over Empires! Just as her father and the harlot they had called Anne Boleyn had always said Elizabeth would.

She would not stand for it! Not now, not ever but with the Princess Elizabeth's wedding in five days and hers in not two… She would write to the Emperor, she would tell him of how horrendous the match was or perhaps complain to Queen Joanna, they were cousins after all; Mary was even betrothed to Joanna's father at one point. She would stop this wedding before it took place.

 _ **22**_ _ **nd**_ _ **April 1554**_

 _ **Westminster Chapel, Westminster**_

The Lady Mary Tudor's marriage was to be made a spectacle, but not out of love but for the factor that it was to flaunt the factor that the Catholic _Princess_ that the people of the said part of Christian religion clung to so dearly was to be married to a Protestant cousin of the King.

Their hopes were utterly dashed as, after this wedding, if they were to put Mary upon the throne then they would have to put an unroyal Protestant upon the throne as well. Because of the King playing his cards so expertly all their hopes were dashed as they watched as the now sallow and tired looking former Princess of England walked down the aisle to face the rather fetching but grimacing Henry Carey who did not look anywhere near as besotted with his bride to be as the King had been with England's new Queen.

James watched satisfied. He had already briefed Henry with expressed orders that they not share a marriage bed and live apart, preventing the Catholics from turning to Mary's heirs and, in return, promised to grant the legitimisation of any bastards Henry Carey should have so he could have heirs still. In return, he created his cousin Earl of Warwick, a silent warning hidden within the title as a reminder of the fate of another Earl of Warwick, Richard Neville, and the fate that had befell that man when he dared defy his King.

He saw Joanna frowning at the scene and sighed slightly, he knew she did not approve of his motives even if she understood them and saw her observing eyes become pitying as her first cousin, once removed glared angrily at the man in front of her and declared to all occupants of the church that she would not marry him.

Guards looked at him for what to do and he gave them a nod as they forced her hand upon a contract of marriage, sealing them together before Mary was threatened into saying vows. He could not say he did not pity the woman, his sister who he had fond memories of from when he was small but with the Catholics rising up against him he had not a choice in this world – her threat had to be removed.

As the newlywed couple headed down the aisle he was too threatened by Elizabeth's glare at how Mary had been treated, eyes silently asking if that would be the events pf her wedding if she were to try to refuse and in that moment he genuinely felt guilty, never wanting his sister to so much as consider such a thing and out an arm out to Joanna who took it as the couple left, James intent on conversing with Elizabeth before it came to the marriage of her and the King of Demark and of Norway.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Boleyn King**

 **Chapter 3**

 _ **25**_ _ **th**_ _ **April 1554**_

 _ **Palace of Westminster, the Chambers of the Princess Elizabeth of England**_

"His Majesty, King James I of England and of France, Lord of Ireland," the herald announced to the Princess Elizabeth as her brother entered, unlike most subjects she did not stand up nor bow – earning her the shock of her Ladies – instead she merely rolled her eyes and continued to brush her hair as if he were not even there.

"Bess-," James began but was swift to be cut off by his older sister.

"Not today, Jamie," Elizabeth stated with a sigh as her tone turned to one of sarcasm, "haven't you heard? Today is my wedding day!"

"It won't be if you don't want it to be, Bess," it was supposed to be fathers, brothers, uncles and other male relatives that controlled the lives of their siblings yet James would rather retain the love of his Tudor tempered older sister than have such a control. Not if it meant that she would hate him for it, "not if it shall cost me our sibling bond. I chose him as it would give you the opportunity to prove yourself to all, to be the woman that mother and father claimed would preside of Empires; I wanted that for _you_ Bess."

Elizabeth's sharp eyes filled with intelligence and the strength of a hundred men snapped to him, her eyes softening as she saw the unspoken apology that seemed to be written across her brother's face even if his pride would not allow him to speak the words, the genuine promise that he would stand up the heir to the monarchy (well, technical it was his proxy that was to marry Elizabeth) of Denmark and Norway, Duke and Earl of more places one could remember if it meant to retain the affection of his only full blooded sibling.

"Nay," Elizabeth stated, barely missing a beat as she looked at her brother's face. She had always said that she was to as brave and as intelligent as any man and she would be within this marriage, if she played her cards right then it would be she that exerted the power within the Danish and Norwegian monarchy, like the Queen upon a chessboard as well as strengthening her home country in the process, "I rather think I shall make a far better Queen Consort of Denmark and Norway than any other could hope to, and who am I to complain of marrying a Crown Prince."

"I shall miss you, Bess, more than you could ever know," stated James, dark eyes meeting dark eyes – ones that both had inherited from the infamous Anne Boleyn – as the siblings offered one another a smile. Together the two had been through the death of their mother, the insults thrown on them by cruel crowds, the rumours of illegitimacy and the exile from their father; even a sea away that would not stop.

"And I you."

The grand celebration of the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth of England to Prince Frederick of Denmark and Norway was a sight to behold as people lined up to see the third royal marriage (well, one partial royal as it was that of the Lady Mary's) of the 1550s, probably not to being seeing another one for many years; and it did not disappoint.

Food and drinks were offered out to all and none could deny the radiance of the red haired Tudor Princess whose hair matched the fire within her soul as she left the church on the arm of the Danish-Norwegian proxy to head to the ports of Kent to begin a life with her new husband – a satisfied smile upon her beautiful face, for she would make her new countries proud of her, she would be a ruler to behold.

 _ **JT-JT-JT-JT**_

 _ **10**_ _ **th**_ _ **May 1554**_

 _ **Hampton Court Palace**_

The Privy Council met upon that day to discuss a desire of James' upon that day, for on the 19th of May, the eighteenth year after his mother's untimely demise, for her to receive a true Queen's burial.

There had been protests, of course, for the way the people of England had seen her and for the fact that such an action may overshadow the fact that it was the King's birthday yet he would not hear a single protested word upon it, and the council had not a way to dissuade him. Therefore, with great haste people were creating a grand coffin lined with gold to move Anne Boleyn from her archer's case of a coffin to, as well as preparing a new chamber within Westminster Abbey for her.

After such an agreement had been reached James and Joanna had decided that they would dine with one another upon that night, as they did almost every night, only this time in was to be notably different.

When James had arrived she had already had food lay upon her plate, oranges. Lots and lots of oranges to such an amount that James could not help but raise his eyebrows at his wife, especially as he knew how much she simply _detested_ oranges.

She grinned at him as he came in and took a seat, and when his food was delivered, and when he took his first sip of wine, until finally he asked, "are you alright, love?"

"Mostly," she informed him with a nod, before giving him a secretive and rather mischievous smile. When Joanna had first come to England as the Infanta Juana she had been cold and proper but these past few months have had the two grown closer as not just lovers but as someone he could truly call a friend, "but I seem to be craving oranges."

James frowned slightly, voicing his earlier thoughts, "but you hate oranges."

"Yet I'm _craving_ them."

"Cravin-… Oh," his eyes seemed to dawn with realisation as Joanna laughed at his rather comically wide eyes, "oh… That's brilliant!"

He let out a joyous laugh as he pulled her from her chair and into a hug, swinging her around merrily as her giggle turned into a full blown laugh, that was until he remembered of her condition as hastily checked her over, worried that he may of harmed her in some way before she quelled his worrying with a swift kiss to his lips.

The Queen's on looking Ladies smiles to one another as they looked at the embracing and affectionate couple, seeing how it seemed as if Anne Boleyn's son was truly to get the golden world she had once dreamt of for her children and for herself.

For the King and Queen seemed as if nothing could stop their seemingly ever growing love, not until death do they part.

 _ **JT-JT-JT-JT**_

 _ **21**_ _ **st**_ _ **July 1554**_

 _ **Hudson House, the residency of the Lady Mary Carey nee Tudor**_

Mary positively beamed as she watched her white, unmarked sheets be taken away by one of her two Ladies. Not a drop of blood upon them.

It had been three months since her disaster of a wedding to the Knight and King's cousin, Sir Henry Carey, and it turned out it had taken him a fortnight of her riling him up and trying to make him feel desire towards her until he broke and they consummated their marriage. Afterwards he had immediately left, obviously worried that James would find out that he had broken his vow and had not been to his wife's residence since. Mary had fretted and fretted that just one night would not be enough but seemingly it had been, it was a sign from God that she was to take the throne from the bastard usurper, her half-brother James and his pregnant Queen.

She supposed that the Queen's pregnancy could have signified that He believed in James' rule but this had proved any doubt wrong. It had taken the King and Queen over two months of conceiving for any life to stir whereas Mary had her own babe within her womb after just one act of possible conceiving; it was a sign and she knew it.

God would give her strong, healthy children to rule England after her whereas James' would be weak and stickily, she was to be certain of it. And Elizabeth was not approaching any signs of a child yet therefore all signs pointed to Mary in her opinion.

Turning to one of her Ladies – a daughter of one of her mother's own Ladies-In-Waiting and one of whose allegiance she was certain was within her possession – and ordered of her, "go to the West and North-West of England, the places most dominantly Catholic, take all my riders with you and tell them that their Queen, Mary Tudor I of England, is with child."

Widened eyes the maid scurried off to do her bidding and Mary allowed herself a large smile, one hand upon her soon to begin swelling stomach.

Let the games begin, my bastard of a brother, let the games begin.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Boleyn King**

 **Chapter 4**

 _ **23**_ _ **rd**_ _ **August 1554**_

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich**_

The day in which Queen Joanna entered confinement was supposed to have been a day of celebrations, of jousting and feasts for the impeding birth of his heir. But instead it saw the entirety of the court watching the enraged King, all of King Henry VIII's children having seemingly inherited the infamous Tudor temper.

And what news was it that angered him so? Well, it was the news of the Lady Mary Carey nee Tudor's pregnancy, a much downtrodden looking Henry Carey being dragged into his presence.

"You impregnated her, against my specific orders?" King James I demanded as Sir Henry Carey knelt upon his knees in front of him, his sister – Catherine Knollys nee Carey – as well as his oldest nieces Mary and Laetitia (Lettice) watched with eyes averted from the scene.

"I am sorry, my King," Henry apologised, not daring to look the King in the eyes, "she purposely tempted me, she wanted-,"

"Of course she wanted it! She wants her own brats upon the throne, to bring back the Catholic religion! You, Sir Henry Carey, are hereby exiled from court to Blicking Hall to live with our Howard cousins in hope that they will teach you how to behave. Your _wife_ will remain at Hudson House and is not to leave, neither of you are to meet again until you receive my expressed orders," James commanded as he stood tall from his throne, towering over Henry Carey, "get out of my sight."

Threats to England were coming swifter than ever before; for the Catholic faction is sure to begin to rise.

God forbid if Mary was to have a son but not he.

 _ **18**_ _ **th**_ _ **September 1554**_

James could not count the hours in which he had paced the outer chambers of Queen Joana's rooms, wincing at every scream that passed her lips.

It was in these moments that he yearned for Bess to be here instead of being the Queen Consort of Denmark and Norway; but she was seas away, and he would have to be strong for not just himself but Joana as well.

And yet it had been thirty-four hours and he could not lose her, not now and not ever for within the months of marriage had come to love her; truly love her. His mother's motto _the most happy_ wrung in his head as he thought of her, seeing the clear similarities between the two in more than just looks; they were both devoted to those they loved, though forced into situations that neither one had wanted.

" _Your Majesty,"_ one of Queen Joana's Spanish Ladies-In-Waiting stated at such a pace that if he had not improved his Portuguese from all the time he had spent with Joana then he would not have been able to understand, _"the Queen has entered complications, the midwives doubt her survival. They say that there are two children within her womb."_

Not listening to the loud protests of the Ladies as he entered and Councilmen as he fled the room into his wife's chambers.

"Your Majesty, it is not proper to-,"

"I do not care about how proper it is," James snapped back, rushing to the panting and sweaty Joana's side as her eyes began to close slightly in exhaustion, "which of you is going to throw me out then, hm?"

None protested to his movements now as he moved to Queen Joana's air, whispering sweet nothings of the lives they would have when she survived this, of the beautiful Princesses and the handsome Princes, of the Camelot that they could create within England, "you can do this Joana, be strong, my love."

Gripping onto his hand to the point where he thought she might of broke it contraction came after contraction as she put more and more effort into every push before a cry from the midwife informed them that the 'head was crowning'.

With every screech he kissed her sweaty head and brushed her hair from her head before the cry of a child greeted the room and he saw relief in Joana's eyes before the pain came once more, James gazed at his first child, glad of it's obvious health but did not speak to query of the gender for all that mattered to him within this moment was Joana and the children's survival; for even if they were not males then they could have more, they could have their Prince if only they survived now.

More than ten minutes later another healthy cry entered the room as Joana seemingly collapsed out of exhaustion, falling back onto the bed as James turned to midwife who readily answered, "Your Majesties have two healthy daughters."

Any feeling of disappointment vanished as he looked at their tiny faces, far smaller than any babe he had seen but the midwife had reassured him that that was perfectly normal for twins and that they would both grow.

Looking over at Joana he saw her sickly looking skin and irregular breathing and all but ran to her side, touching her skin to feel it as cold as ice, "call Doctor Linacre, the Queen is as cold as ice."

Throughout the next night King James I never left Queen Joana's bedside, even when, at two the following morning, the Queen passed away of childbed fever.

 _ **TBK-TBK-TBK**_

 _ **25**_ _ **th**_ _ **September 1554**_

 **Hudson House**

The now noticeably pregnant Lady Mary Tudor stood in her parlour, awaiting the news that would determine the fate of herself and her child, a rather nervous looking servant standing in front of the once Tudor Princess' presence, "well?" Mary snapped, overcome with anticipation for the news she had long awaited to hear.

The young boy shifted uncomfortably in front of the rather formidable women before stated, "Her Majesty gave birth to healthy twin daughters before succumbing to childbed fever."

A bright smile lit up Mary's face as she laughed, quelling any pity that rose within her for the factor that her brother had lost the woman that he loved in favour of remembering the factor that James now had two daughters and no Queen.

The Catholics already supported her, at least the true ones anyway, and with a son, well, she would simply be an unstoppable force.

"They are named the Princess Joana of England and the Princess Anne of England," the herald stated but Mary payed him no mind, other than feeling irritation at the Princess being named after the person who stole her father from her mother; for she was on the edge of having the world, having the throne.

 **TBK-TBK-TBK**

 _ **October 18**_ _ **th**_ _ **1554**_

The days in which the you King of England, Ireland and of France had spent locked within his chambers the past month had been considerable, and yet he had tore himself from his bed, though still deeply dressed within all colours black to go and see+ -the daughters that he had only seen upon birth.

Heading towards the nursery he felt immense guilt to how disappointed Joana would have been in him for neglecting them so; and what his mother would think when she had only been able to spend one single, precious year with the both of her children before she had been taken from the world, and how he was wasting his moments with them.

Lady Laetitia Knollys, Lady Anne Stafford, Lady Katherine Grey and Lady Joan Percy were all Ladies to his daughters now after the death of their mistress, many of Joana's other ladies in waiting having been called back to their family homes or back to Portugal or Spain.

They bowed to him as he entered before he strode over to the cribs, looking down upon the babes who lay awake.

The one in the first mahogany crib – _J.T_ inscribed upon it giving away the factor that the babe it held was his eldest, Joana, named for her mother – had both Joana's stormy grey eyes and blonde hair yet with his aristocratic features and his face shape as well as his creamy skin – the Princess Anne, on the other hand, had Joana's oval face shape and sharper features as well as his aristocratic high cheek bones and Joana's strong jaw line, also possessing Joana's stormy grey eyes and slight tan yet with his dark, glossy hair.

Looking down he found himself transfixed, swallowing the lump within his throat as he thought of how Joana's eyes were staring back at him, the love of his life who now lay within Westminster Abbey awaiting him.

But he would be strong, just as he had been when Joana and he were married and had their relationship consummated; just like then he would not be strong for himself but for another, for his daughters who within a look into their eyes he felt as if his world had shifted to revolve entirely around theirs.

"My own heart," he whispered the endearment as if it came naturally from his lips; not releasing that he had echoed the nickname that his mother had once called his sister and himself.

 _ **TBK-TBK-TBK**_

 _ **November 17**_ _ **th**_ _ **1554**_

 **Christiansbourg Palace, Copenhagen**

The Princess Elizabeth, Consort to the Crown Prince of Denmark and Norway, found herself most enjoying her time within the country she would one day rule; except for a matter involving her husband: Anne Hardenburg.

This woman was a Lady In Waiting to the Prince's mother, a most kind woman by the name of Dorothea of Saxe-Lauenburg, and, worse of all, the Prince's Mistress and possessing much influence over the court as the 'Prince's love'.

She scowled at the mere thought of in her reign that this _woman_ would have more influence than she; nay, she did not come to Denmark and Norway to be some spoiled Prince's brood mare. She came to be a Queen and a Queen she would be, she would preside over Empires just as her father and mother had proclaimed that she would. She would make her brother and her little nieces, the Princesses of England that she longed to meet, proud by creating a true ally in Denmark and Norway rather than just a contract to be broken at any point in time.

She was determined that she would rule as Frederick's equal, that together they would bring about a Golden Age for their country; she could already hear them crying out for her, 'Gloriana' they would call her, 'Good Queen Bess'.

But for the continuation of the Golden Age that she was determined to bring about she would need a son, one that would hopefully make the Prince realise to direct his attentions to his true wife, and not to some Mistress.

Pulling upon the royal purple gown of which she had specifically ordered for this banquet she smiled at her own reflection the mirror, after this night he would no longer share his whore's bed but hers; after all, the Boleyn's were famous for their skills at the Volta.

Anne of Hardenburg be damned, she was going to claim what was hers and she was going to create a dynasty and legacy for all Danish and Norwegians to be proud of.

 **Hi, sorry for the long wait in updates I've been really busy and will be for a little while with my MOCKS coming up but I thought that you guys had waited long enough for an update :)**

 **Anyways, what do you think will happen next?**

 **Will James ever get over Joana? Will he mourn her forever or could his heart fall for another, willingly or unwillingly?**

 **And what families will be plotting for their daughter to be Queen next?**

 **And the gender of the Lady Mary's baby?**

 **Find out next chapter ;),**

 **I hope you enjoy your weeks and have a great night or day,**

 **-LadyHallows.**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Boleyn King**

 **Chapter 5:** _ **the Winter King**_

 **MOCKs are almost finished and over with, I've only got French Reading and Listening tomorrow and then I'm all clear! So I'm celebrating by making a book chapter for you all** **, I hope you enjoy!**

 _ **January 7**_ _ **th**_ _ **1555**_

 _ **Westminster Palace, London**_

Christmastide had come and gone again and the young King felt as if he were trapped in a never ending loop; of sorrow, of despair, of longing for Joanna.

He had written a long letter to her young son, explaining to him that his mother had died giving birth to his sisters – Joanna and Anne – and that he would always be welcome to visit England. He had known how much Joanna had wanted to see her son one last time at least, he had planned for them both to travel to Portugal after the birth of their children.

But it was never to be.

Sighing he lifted himself from his seat and strode out of the room, heading straight towards the Nursery; it had become something of a habit, going to see his young daughters every day, looking at them and breaking down because they looked so much like her at this tender age; and he missed her, and he wanted her back.

"Leave us," he commanded of his daughters' ladies as he made his way to their cribs, gazing down at their tiny, sleeping faces.

And with the door's final shut he broke down, he cried and he yelled and he begged, proclaimed that he would do anything to have Joanna back.

What he didn't realise was that a young girl was still in the room, watching in pity and something akin to horror as the young King broke down; she had always thought Kings invincible, something alike immortals but now she saw that he was just as mortal as the rest, mourning the loss of the woman he had come to love.

Quietly exiting the room Lady Anne Stafford aloud herself one last look at the King before she shut the door behind her, wondering what he would be like when Lady Mary's child arrived; knowing it could cause complete chaos within the relam.

 _I need you Joanna, how am I going to handle this without you?_

Nobody answered; nobody ever did.

 **TBK-TBK-TBK-TBK**

 _ **January 18**_ _ **th**_ _ **1555**_

"What are they saying, Eddie?" Lady Anne Stafford probed as the two attempted to listen into their older siblings' – the people who they were the wards of – words.

Young Edward Stafford strained his ears but nor could he hear a word; that was until the door boomed open revealing Lady Catherine Knollys and Lord Henry Carey – who was wed to Lady Mary Tudor.

"Don't you see, Cathy?" Henry Carey demanded, "if my wife has a boy and the uprisings she's planning go forth and win then I could sit upon the throne of England; but if they fail then we are not safe. We need to also be on the _King's_ side."

"And pray tell me, Henry, how are you going to do that when you've gone and got yourself banished from court for getting the said woman with child in the first place?" Catherine inquired, growing impatient with her disgraced brother's antics.

"Anne has a place in the Princesses' household," Henry Carey stated, the confidence of having a new idea within his voice, "Anne can-," Anne leaned closer in order to try to hear what he was saying.

"Anne can what? She's not yet sixteen!"

"Far younger girls have been married off, the King's own great-grandmother had been married off and impregnated by twelve," Henry argued, determination within his voice.

Catherine looked at him with distain, "you are just how mother said my father had been."

"And I shall be the maker of a golden age like his, Cathy."

And with that the two began to head out into the hallway to where Edward and Anne had been hiding, the twenty and fifteen year old scampering off in a different direction.

The two ended up in the small parlour, looking at one another with shock, "Eddie they're going to make me-,"

The older boy, who was still sickly since his illness bout at just ten years, wrapped his sister into a hug, placing his head atop hers and kissing her forehead, "I won't let them make you do anything that you don't want to do, Annie, I promised father when he left to marry Lady Dorothy and I promised mama when she died that I will always look after you."

"I'm afraid, Eddie."

"I know, Annie."

It was then that a page burst into the room, interrupting the siblings' embrace as he panted out, "Lady Mary- Lady Mary has had a son."

 _ **TBK-TBK-TBK**_

 _ **Hudson House**_

Mary could smell the victory as she held her wailing young son, who seemed to let loose long wails whenever he entered her arms; he was what she had got and James hadn't, and Elizabeth was not yet with child, she had won and she would gain the throne of England.

She looked down at the small baby with mild disgust, it wasn't exactly a very pretty thing, she thought, but felt complete within that moment none the less because she had finally done what her mother had told her that she had been born to do; she could reign England and her son would be her successor.

Glancing down at the child, however, she decided to name him. And the name she gave was her first mistake as she announced to the page to tell all of England, specifically the North that she knew still rallied behind her, "tell them that a Prince has been born, tell all of England that Prince Carlos Tudor has been born upon this winter day; my winter King."

The page nodded and headed off, by the next two days England was alight with rumours of the birth of Lady Mary's son, only the mutterings in the pubs were not only of joyous, some celebrated and toasted to the idea of throwing their nine and ten year old King off of the throne and his two heretic daughters but others did not, muttering darkly about the idea of a boy Spanish in name taking their throne, how his name proved that his mother would make him favour Spanish interests over English ones.

Their King was young, he could have a son and he showed religious lenience with the Religious Settlement that he and his older sister, the Norwegian and Danish Queen, had devised; was it really worth throwing all that away for some brat who would only be taught in the ways of Spain? And if they longed to have Spaniards so bad then the Princesses were already half Spanish, though they were sure to favour the English ways; James was, after all, entirely English.

And would the Emperor, yet another Spaniard, even come to their aid? The King's daughters and current Heirs were already of his bloodline, they were his grandchildren not just another cousin of his; and everybody knew how much he had adored Joanna, and he would probably be more interested in setting their King up with yet another Spanish bride.

Was the death and blood shed to be truly worth it?

 _ **TBK-TBK-TBK**_

 _ **January 25**_ _ **th**_ _ **1555**_

"How are things in the North?" James questioned of his Privy Council as they adjourned that week, "well?"

"We believe that there are whispers of uprisings in the North, Your Majesty," a brave councilman spoke out, his voice quiet as all of the other Privy Councillors remained immersed within silence, "we believe that the leaders may be the likes of Norfolk, Northumberland and Westmorland."

James laughed, sounding slightly crazy as he did so and reminding the men there of Anne Boleyn for if a fraction of a second, the crazed laugh that she had let loose after she had seen her husband dancing with his 'whore', a laugh that covered up the hurt and pain and betrayal that she had felt pierce her so deep, "Norfolk is a cousin of mine, he would not betray me."

"He can and he will," Sir William Cecil spoke gravely as he stared at the Boleyn King, "he is raising the North, Your Majesty, and we await your orders on how to act. But there is more."

"What more is this treacherous cousin of mine planning then?" James queried, letting the same laugh bubble out of his mouth, his dark eyes dangerous.

"He plans to wed Mary, Queen of Scots; and she has agreed. She wants the English Throne."

"And yet she is in France and is but around ten and three," James stated, eyebrows furrowed.

"Not quite, My Lord, the Dauphin was poisoned. The Queen is almost in Scotland, no doubt she will be by this days end. She is said to be beautiful; and very dangerously charming."

 _ **TBK-TBK-TBK**_

 _ **Holyrood Palace, Edinburgh**_

"How is my Lord Norfolk faring?" Questioned a rather beautiful girl, hair a stunning red-gold and eyes of light brown boring into her contact, who felt hypnotised within the young Queen's presence.

"V-very well, Your Majesty," the young man got out, "he is rising the North for you, my Queen, and hopes that you will be wed very soon."

"Yes, I suppose he does," the girl mused, she stood to her full height which was already unusually tall for a girl of her age, as she passed the man she smiled a charming smile that had him gazing wistfully, "tell him I will meet with him when the uprising ends; because, first, I'm going to need that crown. And your Lord is going to get it from my _cousin_ for me. Or I will go and get it myself." 

The man bowed low, "yes, Your Highness," and backed out of the room slowly, never turning his back to her until he reached the exit, rushing from the room and clambering onto his horse at the stables, prepared to tell his Lord what he had learned.

The Queen was beautiful, intelligent and frighteningly charming; and he had no doubt within his mind that Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots would strive for the crown with or without their help, and for their sake, he very much hoped that it would be with.

 _ **TBK-TBK-TBK**_

Thomas Howard, 4th Duke of Norfolk hadn't had much time to truly sit around and think through this plot, and now he did his face grew pale as he thought of the consequences he would receive for the failure of this plot; and how he would lose his head and his children their lands, but mainly the factor that he would lose his head!

Perhaps it was not too late to call the whole thing off, yes, a marriage to Mary would win him two crowns if all went well but if all went to pot then there would be nowhere to _put_ a crown.

Grabbing onto his nearest servant Thomas pulled him towards him, causing the young servant to adopt a fearful expression, "tell the Earls of Northumberland and Westmorland that the attack should be stopped; we will not win and shall all lose our heads."

The servant scampered off to do as he had said but he had clearly not got there in time; for then the church bells rung backwards, the symbol for the rebellion to start.

There was no going back now. Ordering his men to grab their weapons and to join the fiht; god willing that the results would be in his favour, and his future children could be the King of England and Scotland, the dawn of the new age.

If his cousin didn't deprive him of his head first.

And with thoughts such as those the Duke mounted his horse as his men began to march in the direction of Durham, where they would raise more of the North to join their fight.

 **Hi guys so I hoped you enjoyed that chapter, there is a lot going on now! What is going to become of Lady Anne Stafford? What will happen with Mary, Queen of Scots this time around? How will the rebellion of the North – occurring earlier than in true history – playout this time, under James' rule? And who shall the new Queen of England be?**

 **Until next time,**

 **LadyHallows.**


End file.
